


Like You Mean It

by lustfulpasiphae (miraphora)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Consensual Kink, M/M, Mild Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraphora/pseuds/lustfulpasiphae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Mirabai0821 said jokingly "take the muffle off and scream like you mean it" and then this just sort of happened.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Like You Mean It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mirabai0821](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirabai0821/gifts).



> Mirabai0821 said jokingly "take the muffle off and scream like you mean it" and then this just sort of happened.

The camp was quiet outside their tent--the second changing of the watch had already come and gone, Varric taking over with sweet Bianca in his hands like a lover. The fire was banked and burning down to coals. Nearby, the waterfall rushed and splashed, the only sound loud enough to reach inside the stretched canvas and ambient humidity of Bull’s tent.

The only sound loud enough to-–just barely–-compete with the slick, slow impact of his cock in Dorian’s luscious, quivering ass, and the mage’s muffled whines and nasally hissing breaths. The Iron Bull though was quiet and steady as a stone-–relentless-–implacable-–inevitable. If his heart thudded in his chest every time Dorian’s slick muscles worked around him–-if his eye shut each time Dorian keened softly through the gag, the broken “amatus” still intelligible to ears trained to hear–-if any of those things happened, they did so silently, unseen by the sleek, writhing man kneeling before him, swaying, open in surrender–-sundered. 

The Iron Bull’s hands skimmed along Dorian’s sides, feathering light touches at odds with the calluses of battle and their size-–thumbs sweeping in to press firmly and stroke upward along the tensed columns of thick muscle along Dorian’s spine. No wilting hothouse flower, Dorian, for all his nagging complaints of the damp, biting Southern climate. The last bit of tension drained out with Bull’s stroking, and Dorian opened to him further, the stance of his hips and his bent knees looser.

Bull took full advantage, pressing deeper, hands firm on Dorian’s hips. Another keening whine, this one rising even above the rush of the waterfall. Bull slipped a hand beneath Dorian’s hips, gave his lover’s achingly stiff cock a rough stroke, feeling the tension come crawling back almost immediately-–feeling the hot leak of his precum, steady with his rising urgency.

Bull folded his bulk over Dorian’s back, stifling the hitch in his own breathing from the shifting angle of his slow thrusts, resting one large, sturdy fist on the bedroll. His lips just brushed the shell of Dorian’s ear.

“Are you ready?”

A deep shudder rippled along Dorian’s whole body, his breath catching behind the gag. He nodded, a slight dip of his head, his brown shoulders flexing as he steadied his hands on the bedroll beneath him in preparation. A deep groan vibrated in his chest as Bull pulled back, a calculated retreat in preparation for a fresh assault. 

A low, deep, rumbling chuckle from Bull, and the surprisingly gentle brush of lips against the upper curve of Dorian’s ear. “You sure, kadan?”

The muffled imprecations behind the gag rose in tenor and urgency and-–sass. Bull chuckled again, darkly, and tightened one hand on Dorian’s hip, breathing almost too deep to be audible: “Now, kadan…let’s take out that gag-–” His other hand tenderly removed the damp leather from between Dorian’s teeth, ignoring (but filing away for later punishments) the deliberate nip from the mage.

His breath wafted against the whorls of Dorian’s ear, as he finished his sentence, the muscles in his own hips and flanks coiled and ready: “and this time-–scream like you mean it!”

His hands tightened on Dorian’s hips and dragged the man back into his deep, snapping thrust. This time when his heart thudded, he thought Dorian could feel it against his shoulders. His thrusts pounded, plundered, pillaged, took everything that Dorian offered, groaning and sobbing for more. And at last, with the stuttering rhythm of Bull’s hips, the rough stroke of Bull’s hand on his throbbing cock and aching balls, Dorian arched tight with pleasure, screaming _Amatus!_ his brown throat bowed as he threw his head back against Bull’s chest, the ragged cry of his release breaking through the stillness of the camp.

Bull shuddered all through the deep core of his body, from his skull to his balls, and plunged deep one…last…time…before coming to rest, his heart thundering but the rest of him steady, supporting Dorian as he sagged weakly, disengaging carefully, and laying them both down so that he could cradle his love against his chest.

“Well, kadan. I think the nug’s outta the bag.”

Dorian laughed, a soft, gusting sound, still trembling and weak and feeling sated and boneless through every inch of himself–-especially those inches. “Amatus…they already knew.”


End file.
